Just as in the horror movies
when someone discovers that the phone calls
are coming from inside the house

so too, I realized
that our tender overlapping
has been taking place only inside me.

All that sweetness, the love and desire —
it’s just been me dialing myself
then following the ringing to another room

to find no one on the line,
well, sometimes a little breathing
but more often than not, nothing.

To think that all this time —
which would include the boat rides,
the airport embraces, and all the drinks —

it’s been only me and the two telephones,
the one on the wall in the kitchen
and the extension in the darkened guest room
upstairs.

— “The Breather,” Billy Collins